Poetry

In my country,Rumors of insanity scuttlesIn haste like an earnest cry
Yet we&rsquo;re falling for the auntiesOf this desolated insanityLike a difficult teardropThat prevents a dog from smelling exc ...

Slowly in tides, time flows by in a rush like waves. We go through our days like people in the crowd with nothing but fake smiles and our hands in forced waves. We imprison our thoughts in our heads l ...